


Long Way Down

by carrieandlowell



Category: The Politician (TV 2019)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Childhood Trauma, Depression, Eating Disorders, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-26 20:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21380101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrieandlowell/pseuds/carrieandlowell
Summary: The aftermath. No one wants to deal with it, but it has to be dealt with.River’s death, coupled with other shocking revelations, must be grappled with by those left behind. It is no fun picking up the broken shards, but as the students of St Sebastian try to establish a new normalcy and pave a new path for themselves, they realize that the past must be dealt with head on.
Relationships: Alice Charles/Payton Hobart, River Barkley/Astrid Sloan, River Barkley/Payton Hobart, Skye Leighton/McAfee Westbrook
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

  
My broken heartedness over Payton and River had to go somewhere, right? Hence why you are reading this now. Anyway, my goal for this story is to really be in line with everyone’s characters and to bring out their individual fears, desires and emotions as much as I can. I try to bring in certain iconic lines from the show, and also the show’s music. Thank you for reading and giving this story a chance. 

* * *

_Payton_

_Do I know you?_ That was the only recurring thought I had all morning, as I prepared to enter River’s home since that day, a year ago. I was to collect some of his belongings, whatever ‘may prove meaningful in telling his story’, according to his mother.

  
It had been a year since River died, and his belongings were left mostly untouched until today. I’d never even seen Mrs Barkley before, but this woman in her mid-40s with a heart-shaped face and ever stunning blue eyes, the same ones River had, showed up at my door one frigid January morning and wanted me to go through her son’s things. She wanted to use one of our assembly periods in St Sebastian to dedicate it to suicide prevention, but I couldn’t see why she wanted me to go through River’s things. I asked her that.

  
‘Look, Payton… I wasn’t the best mother. Very absent. You were there for him, though. If anyone should get to decide what to keep and what not to, it’s you.’

  
Her honesty pained me. What would it take for a mother to admit that her emotional absence may or may not have inevitably led to her son’s death? Also, how did she know about me and River?

  
I did not ask both questions.

  
Mrs Barkley had given me the key to their home, as she would be away in New York for the weekend. Did she not want to stay to…oversee things? No, no, she said. Too much trouble.  
What trouble? I thought. Were tears and emotions and regret a form of trouble?

  
I walked on the smooth, grey pavement across the perfectly manicured lawn when I realized every inch of this place was etched in my memory. I remember walking out of it on that cold February night, his blood on my shirt, the metallic smell of whatever that was left of him in the air. I could no longer remember the soft of his skin, the blue sweater he always wore, or the way I felt so safe when I was in his arms.

  
And yet, I was the last person he ever spoke to. Didn’t I ever realize what he was holding? Was I too blinded by anger?

  
All of winter’s snow was slowly disappearing off the surface of the marigolds and left water droplets that weighed the petals down. Spring was coming, yet I felt trapped in the past year. Like nothing ever happened after that day in February.

  
I pushed away all my thoughts and firmly reminded myself; all you’re here to do is collect his things. Then leave. Don’t dwell.

  
I stepped into his study, and it hit me before I even prepared for it to.

  
I was angry. So, so, so angry that day.

  
He traced the sides my face, his fingers gently outlining my jaw and pressing into my lips.

  
He was in pain. I remember seeing the tears in his eyes and feeling nothing soften within me.

  
Then the gun cocked, and he was gone.

  
I shook my head, bit my lip and started deciding on the most strategic way to go through his things and decide what to keep. Should I come up with a criteria? Draw up a list or a table?  
As I stood there, in the middle of a vast room with beautiful mahogany furniture and pale yellow walls, I felt as perplexed as he must have been every time he stood here; thinking about how he had everything in life and yet, nothing.

  
I opened the second drawer, skipping the first drawer that I knew he took his gun from.

  
It was there, as if waiting for me to see it all along._ You dumb fuck,_ I thought, almost smiling, _what if I never went through your things? I would never know what you wanted to say._

  
A letter, addressed to me. It was written, but not in a rush in a haphazard scribble, yet it did not seem he had put aside time specially to write something to me and made it perfect. It seemed so casual. He folded it into a quarter and had ‘Payton’ written on the front. _This better not be some 13 Reasons Why bullshit, River,_ I thought out loud.

  
_Payton:_  
_I don’t know where to start, or why I’m writing this, for that matter. I’ve never been big on letters, which may come as a surprise._

  
_Guess I’d rather express myself through actions, so people know it’s real. I guess it’s time to call this letter for what it really is: the last one I’ll ever write. I just wanted to remind you… of things. It’s important to me that you know, because who knows what goes on in that head of yours?_

  
_Where most people saw you as someone with a relentless drive to succeed, and that being a toxic trait; I merely wondered why. Why would someone who had almost everything in the world need to prove himself so badly, so much so he wanted to become President of such a fucked up nation?_

  
_You are different, Payton. I volunteered to be your Mandarin tutor to get to know you better. What, you think I just showed up in your house? I contacted your mother and God, I had to really sell myself. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not some creep who just wanted to psychoanalyze you. I liked you from the moment I knew you, and I don’t know… I guess I just saw a lot of myself in you, and yet we were so different, in so many ways._

  
_I doubt anyone has ever told you this, Payton, but you can afford to miss a day or two. Whether or not you’re President or not doesn’t change who you are; which might sound scary because we don’t always like who we are, but at the end of the day, how much of yourself can you really strip away? I know you’ve got something to prove. We all do. Just make sure to succeed at things that really matter to you, okay?_

  
_Also, do me a favour, will you? Let yourself be vulnerable in front of people. Not everyone can ‘make’ you vulnerable like I did, but you’re doing yourself a service by opening up. I know you think you’re a sociopath because you think cannot feel, but that’s not true. When I looked at you, I knew you had an entire universe inside of you. You just need a magnet to pull those feelings out of you, and you have to learn to do it yourself because I can’t always be there. Heck, even if you don’t want to open up, just think about it as being more human. That helps with your campaign, doesn’t it?_

  
_You’re a politician. I knew that from the start. You don’t have to be a good person in order to do good things, so stop trying to understand your core motivations. And hey, maybe I’m being biased here, but I think you’re a good person._

  
_I wish I could be here with you, Payton. I’m sorry I’m not. I cannot give you a singular explanation as to why things are the way they are, because the truth is I couldn’t even really understand it myself. Three long years I sat through whatever they told me would work, but I guess I was just so afraid I was always going to feel this way. I was afraid all I’d do is feel the whole world at once and not be able to do anything to get away from that feeling._

  
_You were my only relief. Everything that happened, happened despite you, not because of you, so really… it’s on me._  
_The hardest thing I ever did was letting you go. I knew what my decisions meant, and how irreversible they were. But some part of me always knew that it would all come to this, despite it all._

  
_You asked me if I was happy. I said I tried to be. And I wasn’t lying, Payton, I tried so hard. I tried, for you._

  
_I’m not that big on God and I don’t know what happens after we die, but I don’t think Heaven is something people make up to just feel better about death. There’s a part of us that has to go somewhere, right? I’m not gonna say that I’m looking down on you or whatever, because what if I’m not? So… just try to find me in the little things, if you can._

  
_All you do is think, think, think; then you begin to lose perspective on how special you really are. When you step up to the role, run the campaign, enter the field of cut-throat politics… know that you already have my vote. You’re going to change the world, Payton._

  
_I’m running out of words, but I’ll never run out of things to say to you. You made me feel alive and all the emotions being alive meant, and for that I wish I could have given you more, and been more for you. I’m bad at ending letters, so there’s that. I’ve always believed in you, and I always will._

_River_

I swallowed hard. I couldn’t really feel anything. It was the same odd numbness that washed over me for a week after River had passed, the same fear that engulfed me when I was afraid I couldn’t feel anything.

  
This time, I didn’t have my mother to lie down in my bed beside me to… comfort someone who didn’t necessarily need comfort. He just needed someone to be there.

  
I folded the letter back into its original form and stuffed it into my pocket, and looked around and took a deep breath. I didn’t want to find anything anymore. If I was being honest, I just wanted to get out of his house.

  
What was the point of being here, if he wasn’t here?

  
Anger slowly crept up within me as I thought of how no one had to go through this, but me. Even his own mother was away in New York, doing God-knows-what, while I had to clear all of this.

  
_You’re really fucking with me,_ River. _Fuck you._ I thought, as tears built up within my eyes. A painful lump formed in my throat as I tried to physically push it down but to no avail. The tears poured out menacingly, staining his mahogany floor a deeper shade of brown.

  
My vision was a blur as I hastily stuffed everything into the drawer and grabbed the keys off the countertop and walked out of the room.

  
I hated it. I hated every inch of this cursed room, where his ghost lingered and plastered every wall and surface and occupied every molecule in the air.

  
There was no one in the house. Just me and a semblance of him. And my tears on the floor – the only thing that had really changed in the entire house in the year, since no one had ever stayed there besides River.

  
I drove to my apartment 10 minutes away, feeling nothing at all. The cold February air stung my eyes and nipped at my ears, but I couldn’t respond to any of it.

  
By the time I entered my apartment, I suddenly became immensely grateful for the heat and wrapped myself in a fleece throw; the way you don’t know how hungry you are when you take the first bite of food.

  
Being warm was like coming home. It was like my mother being there by my side. It was like River was a few blocks down the street, working out in the gym or doing whatever River did best. It was like a warm July afternoon.

  
That night, as I turned off every single light in my room, I held up his letter against the night lamp. But I didn’t read it. My eyes followed the way every single letter was written, every careless scribble, every unique slant of his letters, every time he pressed the pen into the paper so hard it smudged and seeped through. 

  
I looked at every letter and every word without comprehending the letter at all, and I did so again until I fell asleep into a deep, dreamless slumber for the first time in a long time. 


	2. Astrid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for eating disorder mention.

_ **Astrid** _

My boyfriend killed himself, no one won the election, I disappeared, royally fucked up my life by going to New York City and having sex with the dumbest and least romantic guy in the entire of America, returned to get my father arrested, then left my mother back home and went back to New York to serve tables at Bubba Gump.

So yeah, you could say I was making pretty bold decisions and it seemed like I knew what I was going to do next. The truth was I knew I couldn’t make my life out to be a coming-of-age sitcom where I stayed in New York forever and waited to fall in love with a millionaire and never come back to this porcelain, picture-perfect shithole that was St Sebastian and everything that had transpired within the past year.

I went back to school – we all did – and all day I just tried hard to ignore the gnawing voice in the back of my head that nothing in my life was going according to plan. Actually, it’s not as if I even had a plan. Everything I thought I knew about the world dissolved in the first day I worked at Bubba Gumps, where a middle aged woman yelled ‘slut’ in my face and a fifty-something male grinded his ass against my back.

Money and looks doesn’t solve jackshit, Dad. It doesn’t. Look where you’re at now. -

The bell rang and as usual, I stuffed everything into my bag and whipped out my headphones before anyone could stop me to talk. What was there to say in response to _how are you doing_, which was basically a euphemism for_ your-boyfriend-killed-himself-and-your-dad-paid-women-for-sex-and-your-mother-is-basically-seventeen-and-you-disappeared-to-New York?_ I didn’t have time for these pretentious people who had problems like failing a trigonometry test.

Walking out of the classroom, I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder. I let out a slight yell as I turned around, prepared to go down on my knees and beg for forgiveness from a woman who had her life fucked upside down by my dad, when I realized it was simply Payton Hobart and his sad, puppy dog eyes.

Payton saw my rising anger and his eyes grew wide, ‘Look, look, Astrid. Before you say anything, I’m not gonna talk about that. Things are shit, and it is for me too. Nothing is okay. I get it.’

I held my words and looked at him. ‘What do you need, Payton? A hug? Since Mommy’s long gone?’

Payton’s eyes grew cold as he straightened himself and took a step away from me. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

‘You tell me.’

‘Don’t tell me you hold whatever happened against me. We’ve been over this.’

I raised my eyebrows and looked everywhere but at him. River could have died for a million years, but I could not bear to talk about that day with anyone. The wound was raw, the blood was merely stopped by a disgusting, and bacteria filled Band-Aid that only infected the wound further. Payton ripped away whatever Band-Aids I had put on in a desperate attempt to stem the flow of blood. Everyone pitied his family, his friends. James and Alice and McAfee pitied Payton. I, on the other hand, seemed to be completely out of the picture. For a girl that escaped to New York to fuck a couple of guys, you seem to be doing fine, they’d say.

‘You used his death for clout, Astrid. You wanted to win the election.’

‘So did you. That song you sang at the memorial service?’

‘That came from the heart.’

‘Of course it did.’ I snapped.

There was a long silence. ‘It doesn’t have to always be like that, Astrid.’ Payton muttered. I finally looked at him. I think it was quite frankly, difficult to look at Payton because he reminded me of River in so many ways. He was no longer that energetic, enthusiastic, over-eager person I came to know a year back. Things had changed and worn him down and it showed in his face. Creases in his forehead, weathered circles under his eyes – and for a fleeting moment I thought I caught that look of deep despair.

‘I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to… hang out more this year. You know, like study or something. We have a chemistry test coming up and I wanted to ask you if you wanted to meet at the café down the block today to study.’ Payton muttered again, faster this time. He seemed ashamed of his request. My head started throbbing. I shifted my weight from one foot to another and looked around, then finally at him. This time, he was the one looking at everywhere else but me.

I just had to say no. Why was I so scared to reject him? Were two broken-hearted, grieving people supposed to help mend each other?

Payton finally looked up. ‘You – you need more time.’ He said, reading my mind. ‘I get it. Don’t worry.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I said but it came out a whisper and my voice cracked. He walked away and I wasn’t sure if he even heard what I had to say.

-

Back at home, I finally allowed myself to take one good look at my surroundings and this massive, frankly beautiful, Victorian-Hippie hybrid of a house that stood on 400 year old land. I never allowed myself to take in all of its grandeur and beauty, because that thought often led to thoughts of my father’s infidelity and my mother’s broken-heartedness she temporarily fixed with designer clothing and leaving on long, unexplained trips to Bali. It reminded me of a part of me I’d never want to admit, that even after my father proving he was the worst man in existence, I still wanted him to look at me and tell me he was proud of me. It reminded me of an empty shell of which there was no substance, only an achingly beautiful exterior that seemed to struggle to contain all the skeletons in the closet.

I didn’t know where I was going. This time, there was no fucked up family dynamics, no father to call the cops on, no election to play dirty at, no Ricardo, no New York. I was left with me and my thoughts and the painful silence that came with it, which would inevitably bring me back to one thing and one thing only: River. Everything in my life was now reduced to a before and an after. Before River died, and after. 

Everything that happened in my life that had culminated into a shitstorm was ultimately there to protect me from the greater of the evils: what one would even think, feel, and do without it. Things at home, by myself, as it had been for the past 6 months, were like clockwork. Every time I was hit by a maelstrom of memories from the past, it filled me up with an overwhelming sadness and disgust which meant I needed to get rid of it, for fear of spilling over. I’d go into the bathroom, kneel down by the marble toilet bowl, stick two fingers down my throat and throw up all that I hated about my life and myself. Almost emotionlessly I’d flush, wash my hands with soap, look in the mirror and stare at whoever this bitch was. I knew it was a shameful crime I’d committed against myself, a disease that meant everything but control, an act that I would swear to myself never to do each time I did it, only to return to it in order to deal with the guilt from this very cursed thing. I wasn’t dumb like what they portrayed people like me to be. I knew very well what I was doing and why, but there came a point there was no point in thinking about consequences when I was already living in it. But just as I’d given up on maintaining any sort of image, I knew I’d die before anyone found out I had the fucking Golden Girl syndrome.

And every time, after purging, at least for twenty whole minutes, I felt like I was in control again.


	3. River | September 2017

_River _

_September 2017 _

‘Now this has just got to be some sick joke. September and Santa Barbara is 77 degrees? Where’s that Fall life we’re supposed to live?’ Payton called out from the front lawn as he got out from his car, a Starbucks reusable cup in each of his hands.

I lay on the hanging chair in the balcony and clutched at the soft woolen throw that covered the sharp edges of the rattan surface and laughed. This was whom I had chosen, and there was not a single fiber in me that would give him up for anyone in the world.

‘What’d you get?’ I asked as I swiveled the chair around.

‘Three words. Pumpkin. Spice. Lattes. Just because California refuses to give us Fall doesn’t mean we can’t create our own Fall. Almond milk, of course. We’re all about that non-dairy life.’ Payton answered almost too seriously, his eyebrows arching as he reached out and passed one to me.

I’d known him and talked to him and seen him for about three months now, but every interaction we had was electric. We both knew it. When our fingers brushed as he passed a cup to me, I couldn’t help but gaze into his honeyed brown eyes. I wanted to protect him even though there was no clear sign of danger. I wanted him safe.

‘Almond milk? That’s bad for the environment though. It uses way more water than other plant milk equivalents – ’ I gently teased, only to be cut off by Payton’s sudden loud gasp as he started pacing around – ‘Oh, my god. Of course. Oat milk next time. Yikes.’

I shook my head and laughed and looked into the distant horizon where the sun crept behind the clouds, casting a gentle purple hue over the sky. If I looked straight into the distance, without looking left or right, I could pretend this wasn’t California. I didn’t know my neighbors who invited me for Thanksgiving dinners, seeing I had not much of a family. I didn’t know the entire of St Sebastian. The only person I wanted to know was Payton.

For a moment I could have believed that this was a far-off, remote, sub-urban area in Scotland where no one knew my name or where I’d come from.   
  


‘Hey, hey,’ Payton gently nudged my shoulders and I was immediately taken out of my thoughts. He was climbing into the chair. I shifted to make space. ‘You’re thinking again,’ Payton said and laughed, ‘I thought that was something I did exclusively.’

Whatever time we had on our side, I wanted to spend it with him and being in the present. ‘I think too much, too. We are one and the same. But now I don’t want to think. I want to be here.’

I gently cupped his face, my right hand warming up against his skin. My other hand rested against his thighs and I closed my eyes, breathing him in.

These were the moments I felt the most alive. The anticipation, the longing, the giving in to the most natural and innate forms of desire ever known to mankind. Payton leaned in before I did, but I decided there were things I wanted to do to remember this forever.

I gave him a quick peck on the lips and had to resist from going all out. I squeezed his shoulders gently and whispered, ‘Wait. Follow me.’

Back in my room, I drew the curtains but I opened the windows, allowing for the undoubtedly cooler evening autumn air to enter. The temperature had dropped as the sun set.

I turned on the disc player and loaded _Simple Song _by The Shins, and set it to play on repeat.

‘You and your music choices,’ Payton said quizzically, but there was nothing but love and absolutely no judgement in his voice, ‘Why this song?’

I walked towards him, my arms already on his shoulders. I drove him gently to the bed where I leaned in and gave him and myself a deep, longing kiss – everything we had ever wanted for the past few days. ‘You’ll know. You’ll see,’ I said softly as I closed my eyes and let him kiss me with the same passion and desire and want just like the very first time.

This time, there was no tears. And if there were to be tears, I thought to myself, let them be happy ones.

_Well this is just a simple song_

_To say what you done_

_I told you about all those fears_

_And away they did run_

I’d always been stuck between opening and closing my eyes during such times. Closing meant I got to feel everything on a much deeper level and allowed me to take unprecedented risks with everything I did. I could explore every inch, every crevice of him that he allowed me to; I could give my all to him without restraint; I could lose myself, completely. Opening meant I got to see his face, see the person I knew from the beginning I would love unconditionally, and see my lover whom I did not deserve to have but here he was, not leaving me despite everything he had seen.

I didn’t want him in me, not yet. And I knew he felt the same about me. For a minute, let us just be protecting each other. By now, we both had our shirts off, and this was when we hugged with such ferocity I feared I might break his ribs. Skin on skin, I could feel his steady heartbeat and he could feel mine. My fingers curled against his neck as he kissed me softly down my neck and into my chest, and I could feel him hesitating slightly. Opening my eyes, I realized his eyes were pooling with tears.

‘Payton,’ I whispered as I kissed his forehead and rubbed his back, ‘Happy tears?’

He nodded, almost sheepishly and blinked back tears, ‘Happy, River. They’re happy.’

_ And a kiss that I kept_

_Under my vest_

_Apart from everything_

_But the heart in my chest_

Now that he had been vulnerable and I had now given up not just my heart, but my body, to another human being and allowed him to see me just as I was, without the guise of music or poetry or any shield, I knew we were over the hardest part. Now was just a matter of catching our breaths, of racing against time. Everything from then on moved naturally, like a river who knew its job was to keep flowing from one end to another, and would eventually merge with the other rivers, then the seas, and then the ocean. The cycle would then repeat itself. There was no regret, no missed opportunities; just nature knowing where it was meant to be at any given time.

At the moment where I knew he was about to come, I did not do anything but instead felt compelled to give him the deepest kiss and warmest embrace I’d ever give to anyone, as if to say _I see you, and I would not trade anything for what I’ve seen. _His intense gaze only made me harder as I struggled to let him see all that I was, as to which he whispered in response, ‘You wanted to make tonight one to remember, River.’

And that was all it took. Time, from the beginning, had been our worst enemy, just like for our ancestors. There was never enough time to love, never enough time to remember, never enough time to grieve.

_I know that things can really get rough when you go it alone_

_Don't go thinking you gotta be tough, to play like a stone_

_Could be there's nothing else in our lives so critical_

That night, we knew we’d given up our bodies to each other and shown the flaws and beauties of what we had to offer on the surface, but I knew, and he knew, that we were drawn to each other because of something far deeper than that.

The temperature had dropped even more significantly, and Payton reached out to close the windows when I grabbed his arm, ‘No. We should look out into the night, Payton. Let’s just lie here, and look.’

I loved how awkward he was sometimes. He stood by my window and pursed his lips, as if unsure of what to do next.

I laughed quietly and motioned for him to lie down beside me. He put one arm around my stomach and I let him lie on my arm. It was like I was a bolster and he was hugging one to sleep, but I did not mind at all.

‘I want to remember this, Payton. Everything I can remember, I want to.’ I said, gazing into the night sky. We were not looking at each other, and I loved it. I gave him space to wonder, to ponder; and he gave me mine.

He leaned in and breathed in so close to my skin and whispered, ‘Nothing about this has to end. We have time, River.’

I close my eyes, and swallowed hard. There was something I knew all along, but couldn’t quite pinpoint. Or maybe I knew what it was, but how do you look at the love of your life and mutter some sort of long held suspicions and thoughts?

I turned my body till we were just an inch apart. I looked into his eyes that were a deep, dark brown, brimming with a strange yet attractive mix of desire and understanding and sadness. I had to touch his face, trace its outlines and memorize the shape of who he was. ‘No matter what happens, Payton, I don’t want you to ever forget tonight.’

He replied in a heartbeat, his gaze unwavering, ‘It scares me when you talk like that, River.’

I did not flinch. Instead, I pressed my lips onto his and allowed myself just one more for the night. ‘Years down the road, don’t say you never knew, Payton. We loved each other, although I can bet on a million stars and the entire goddamn universe that I loved you more, and I’m always going to be the one winning here.’

‘Should I want to win this one?’ Payton asked, a smile forming at his lips.

I looked into his eyes and thought, _it’s gonna be so fucking hard to leave you, you don’t even know. _I put a finger to his lips and smiled as if my words were not going to be one of the heaviest ever, ‘No. No, Payton, you’re not gonna want to win this one. Being the one who loves another more… not as great as it’s cut out to be.’

Between the both of us, I knew very well what I was saying. I loved him more, therefore I knew when the time come, I’d suffer more. And that was a price I was willing to pay if it meant getting to know him, the one person I’d ever consider staying one more day for.

_Remember walking a mile to your house, a glow in the dark_

_I made a fumblin' play for your heart and the extra, the spark_

_You wore a charm in the chain that I stole especially for you_

‘I get it now, the song.’ Payton said as he snuggled up closer to me. The cold wind became a little _too _cold, but it further brought out the warmth of his touch, the sweetness of his breath. I could stay in this moment forever.

‘Too bad it’s gonna just be a sex song to me now,’ Payton added. I rolled my eyes and hit him lightly on the arm, ‘You ruined the moment. Jesus.’

We shared a laugh and it went back to being quiet again, which I loved. I slowly began to lose myself in the music, every beat, every tempo change, every lyric; when I sat up and turned to Payton. ‘Okay, you gotta sing the next lines with me.’

His eyes grew wide, caught slightly off guard by the sudden request. But I knew, that he knew the lyrics to this one. We all did. It was a timeless classic, like Chopin, or Bach.

_Love's such a delicate thing that we do, we've nothing to prove _

‘Now, that was real heckin’ cheesy,’ I chuckled and flopped back down on bed and saw him do the same.

‘Such a great line though. _Love’s such a delicate thing that we do, we’ve nothing to prove_,’ Payton hummed as he stared out the window, back at me, and then out the window again.

Almost out of the blue, he said, ‘Will there be more songs in the future, like this one? Promise me it won’t be the last.’ His hopeful eyes meant that what he was saying wasn’t that entirely literal. He knew, that I knew, what he was really talking about.

‘Tonight’s not the last,’ I assured him, which was as much as I dared to say or even dream about. ‘I promise,’ I added, for extra measure as I ran my hand through his hair and took all of him in once again.

Whatever days I can waste away with the love of my life, I thought, whatever nights I can spend in bed beside him, let it be as much as my mind can render me. For him I’d try, and fight, and try, and fight till I was all bloodied and exhausted. For him I’d make promises I knew I could not keep, but would die trying to.

But then I stopped myself. No more thinking. Since tonight was where fate decided we could be together, I forced myself to be present.

I wanted to say something, just to earmark this memory, just to make sure I would never forget. But Payton looked at me and whispered knowingly, ‘Words are futile devices. Don’t say it. You don’t have to.’

‘Let’s save it. For another time.’ I said.

‘_Another_ time,’ Payton emphasised for good measure.

I nodded and pulled him into an embrace. I never wanted to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simple Song by The Shins is an absolutely incredible song. I first heard it on How I Met Your Mother, and it's stuck with me. 
> 
> Do give it a listen!


End file.
